


ready to comply

by icebucky



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, and his trigger words, and i was like maybe i should write something about bucky, but still, everything in here happens either before or during ca tfa, i mean hydra probably didnt know these things about him, idk so i got super emo, so this is about things from his past that his trigger words were based on, stevebucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: every word they say to him as he's sitting in that chair, to make that machine come out of him and take control, means a different memory to him, even though they didn't know.aka i wrote mini fics based on bucky's trigger words. they all take place either pre-tfa or during tfa, as the trigger words wouldn't take effect until after bucky's fall. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH IS ONLY BECAUSE BUCKY FALLS OFF THE TRAIN I MEAN WE ALL KNOW HE DOESNT REALLY DIE BUT ITS ABOUT AS TRAUMATIZING SO I FELT LIKE IT WAS APPROPRIATE. HE BASICALLY DIES.





	1. longing

**LONGING**

Bucky's fifteen when he first feels it.

Steve's pining after this girl, this curly-haired secretary who works at the doctor's office across the street, and Bucky, being the best friend that he prides himself on being, listens. Steve doesn't ever say much, he just sighs and blushes and sketches her from memory when he thinks Bucky can't see.

Bucky’s seen Steve draw him before too, though that’s definitely something different that he’s not sure how to react to. He just knows that he feels warm inside every time he catches a glimpse of Steve’s work.

In any case, Steve pines, and Bucky listens. One day, Bucky’s urging Steve to ask her out and, miracle of miracles, he actually crosses the street to talk to her. They both know that this won’t go anywhere – Steve at this point is fourteen and looks eleven, and he’s the tiniest thing Bucky’s ever seen as he tries to talk to this very beautiful and very adult woman that he likes, but he still makes Bucky’s heart swell so much he feels like it could burst.

Bucky’s standing outside, his hands in his pockets, watching Steve grin at her awkwardly, glowingly, and he suddenly feels a sweeping ache tingling in his limbs. That’s the smile Steve rarely uses for most people, something that only appears when he’s trying to win over an authority figure or soften up his mother or every time he talks to Bucky. He always smiles like that for Bucky.

And now, apparently, for girls he likes, too.

Half of Bucky’s chest is tight with a feeling he’ll later recognize as jealousy, while the other half is loose and flowing, like a hand reaching out to Steve, itching to touch him, and while he has no idea how or why this feeling has risen up in his throat and is crowding his heart out of his chest, he knows more than anything that this is what longing feels like.

The one thing he’s more aware of than the existence of this new feeling is the fact that he can’t do anything about it, and he only feels slightly guilty at the hint of selfish satisfaction he gets from the disappointed look on Steve’s face as he crosses the street again.


	2. rusted

**RUSTED**

“I dunno, Buck,” Steve says, swinging his legs on the kitchen counter, “I still think it’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re a dumbass, Steve,” Bucky replies, walking over with the gauze. "Seriously, what the hell did you think was going to happen?”

Steve sighs. “I couldn’t just sit there.”

“For god’s sake, Stevie, sometimes I wish you would. Do you know how many times I’ve had to patch you up this week alone? It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

Steve winces as Bucky starts to clean the cut on his arm. “I didn’t get hurt on purpose.”

“I know you didn’t. Jesus, this is deep, what did you crash into?” Bucky frowns, beginning to wrap Steve’s arm. “Seriously, why’d you try to fight that asshole?”

“Because he was goin’ after some kid, Buck! I know what that’s like! And to answer your question,” he continues, blushing slightly, “I crashed into a trash can and landed on something sharp.”

Bucky stops, torn between reprimanding Steve for his recklessness like a worried parent and sympathizing with him for his reasoning. As something of a compromise he finishes wrapping Steve’s arm in silence, letting his hand rest on the bandage for a slight moment longer than he really should.

He can feel Steve’s breath slow and knows that if he looks up, he’ll see the golden boy in front of him giving him the softest look through his feathery lashes.

Bucky allows himself to rub his thumb over Steve’s arm twice before letting go. He knows now more than ever how deep his feelings for Steve go, but he also knows the best way for him to show them is through the protective affection in their current dynamic.

He clears his throat and steps back. “That better not get infected, Rogers, or I’m gonna kick your ass before the germs do.”

It gets infected anyway. Turns out the can Steve landed on was rusted.


	3. seventeen

**SEVENTEEN**

Things between them shift on Steve’s seventeenth birthday.

The year’s been pretty fucking shitty in terms of cash flow for Bucky, and at this point, all he really wants is for Steve to actually get something nice, for once.

But either way, it’s the Fourth of July, so Bucky can at least count on fireworks this year for Steve’s birthday. Those rich people who aren’t struggling always put on a show, and while he’s usually bitter, this time Bucky’s grateful there’ll be at least one nice thing he can give to Steve.

Bucky has to work that day, so he writes a note and hopes that when Steve gets it he’ll know Bucky would be there all day if he could. He leaves the note tucked into the corner of Steve’s window frame, his untidy scrawl spelling out _Stevie – Happy Birthday! Sorry I have to work; off at 5:30. Meet me on the roof at 6? Bucky._

The day crawls by and Bucky fidgets through his long hours at the grocery store, not even paying attention to the girls giggling and trying to engage him. Finally, finally, _finally_ , he punches out and practically sprints to that nice art supply store that Steve always lingers outside of longingly before allowing Bucky to drag him away. He shoulders his way in and gets side-eyed by the other patrons for his worn clothes and messy hair, he guesses, but he quickly finds exactly what he knows Steve needs and counts his money once, twice, three times before paying for it and running out.

By the time Bucky makes it to their apartment building, the sun is setting and he knows it’s already past six, so he avoids the inside altogether and scrambles up the fire escape to reach the roof without getting stopped by any of his assorted family members. He clambers over the ledge onto the roof and looks across to see Steve sitting on a crate dangerously close to the edge, swinging his legs and looking particularly illuminated by the sunset.

“Hey,” Bucky calls, and Steve turns around, a smile brightening his face and causing a lump to form in Bucky’s throat.

“You’re late,” Steve says, trying to sound stern, but he’s smiling so much the effect is completely ruined. When Bucky sits down next to him, he adds, “Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. Just been working a lot.” Bucky drops his head a little sheepishly, then continues, “I think it was worth it, though. Got this for you.” He hands Steve the hastily wrapped present, bouncing his leg a little as Steve takes it.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve says, taking it and holding it gently. “You didn’t need to get me anything. I know you could’ve used the money, you’re saving up to move out, and –”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupts, cutting him off midsentence, “listen to me. I _wanted_ to get you something special. Look, this year’s been kinda shitty and it’s your birthday and you’re – you’re almost a man now. You deserve something nice, what with all the shit you go through.”

Steve pauses, rubbing a loose tab of the wrapping between his fingers. “Okay,” he says, so softly Bucky’s not sure for a moment if he even speaks at all. “You know, you’re only a year older than me.”

“Shut up and open your present, punk.”

Steve grins, and then he tears open the paper and Bucky doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath waiting for Steve’s reaction until his chest starts to hurt. He sucks in a breath as Steve stares down at the new sketchbook and art pencils in his hands, the wrapping paper discarded and forgotten on the rooftop.

Bucky doesn’t really know shit about art, Steve’s always saying he has a good eye for it, but he’s never really learned. All he knows is that Steve’s looking at the materials in his hands like they’re the most beautiful and valuable things he’s ever seen in his life, and when he raises his eyes and looks at Bucky with the exact same expression, Bucky feels so warm inside he thinks he might do something irrational, something that could fuck it all up in an instant.

“Bucky,” Steve whispers, softly, almost reverently, the word swallowed with emotion like a lover’s caress. “Oh, Buck, I – I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” Bucky replies, throat tight, as Steve scoots closer and leans against him. He puts his arm around the smaller boy, feeling his fragile bones against him, and they watch the city for a while in silence. It’s darker now, the lights beginning to turn on, and Bucky knows in his heart that _something_ is coming next, but he doesn’t know how to prepare for it.

“You know,” Steve says a few minutes later, his body still tucked against Bucky’s, “you didn’t have to _buy_ me anything. I would have been just as happy with something else from you.”

Bucky leans out a little to look at Steve at that, a small smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

Steve looks up at him, the last of the sunlight washing his cheekbones in a rosy light, and bites his lip before hesitating, then darting forward and kissing Bucky quickly yet firmly on the right corner of his mouth. He jumps back just as quickly, standing and maneuvering out from under Bucky’s arm, saying, “That. I wanted to do that. Even if it was only once.”

Bucky feels like his entire world is shattering in that moment. Never in a million years did he ever imagine that Steve could possibly have the same feelings as he did, and yet here was the proof, tingling on the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He has no idea what to do or say, and he realizes too late that he’s been silent for too long.

“…I’m so sorry, just forget it, okay, I’m gonna go, shit, I ruined everything, didn’t I, _fuck_ ,” Steve’s rambling, snatching up his things and starting to leave, before Bucky catches his hand.

“Wait – Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s even more breathless than usual, which is saying something, seeing as he’s asthmatic, but Bucky pulls him in anyway, catching his arm and tugging him gently like he’s done to girls before, so that Steve’s standing between Bucky’s legs when he’s still sitting on the crate.

“C’mere,” Bucky says, his voice going soft and rough, standing and taking Steve’s face in his hands and kissing him softly, then with a bit more urgency.

For a minute it’s like Steve doesn’t know how to react, and then his hands come up and he drops his keys and his fingers are in Bucky’s hair and just as he’s registering how _fucking amazing_ this is, the first firework goes off.

Steve sighs a little into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky feels his heart glowing because of the beautiful boy in his arms. He breaks away and wraps Steve up in a crushing embrace, so much that his feet are lifted off the ground, and whispers, “Happy seventeenth, Stevie.”

Steve responds with kissing Bucky again with the needy fierceness that he does everything with, and Bucky can’t think of a better way for this night to go. Something in him tells him that this is going to be a rare occurrence, something that is almost doomed from the start, but damn if he doesn’t cherish every second of this for as long as he has it.

They don’t talk about it afterwards, but it doesn’t stop, and that’s good enough for Bucky.


	4. daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry. it was supposed to be happy. my fingers apparently disagreed with my original plan and started typing out this monstrosity. i'm so sorry

**DAYBREAK**

"Make a wish," Bucky half-whispers, nudging Steve with his shoulder, and Steve shoves back lightly, mouth twisted up in a soft grin.

"You don't wish on the sunrise, Buck."

Bucky looks at Steve fully, Steve who is just now recovering from another bout of pneumonia, and then back at the streaks of gold starting to reach across the sky. "This time I do."

In nineteen hours and three days, it'll be exactly six months since they first kissed, on this same rooftop, only this time, Steve has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and he's sitting so close to Bucky that he's almost in his lap. This is nothing new, there's just a different feeling now that they've been making out almost every night on the fire escape.

"What did you wish for?" Steve asks, turning to meet Bucky's eyes.

Bucky feels a jolt of warmth in his stomach that has nothing to do with the sunlight starting to heat up the world. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

Steve shrugs. "Suit yourself, jerk."

The sun is peeking up higher over the horizon now, and Bucky pulls his arm out from between them and wraps it snugly around Steve's shoulder. After a moment of silence, Bucky breaks it by saying, "Stevie... you don't - I mean. It's my fault, isn't it? This time it was me."

Steve frowns, and Bucky thinks for a moment that he can see a slight shake to Steve's chin - he's either nervous or cold, and neither of those options bode well for the conversation they're about to have. "What do you mean?"

"I just - I just mean that you wouldn't have gotten sick if we hadn't been outside in the cold so much."

The implication is heavy behind Bucky's words, and he knows Steve understands him perfectly. "You don't have to say it like that, Buck, we're the only ones here. We were kissing."

"I know," Bucky breathes, closing his eyes and relishing for a moment how fucking  _good_ it felt to be able to be open with Steve about how he felt, but there's always been a part of him that wonders if maybe Steve only kisses him because he wants to practice, or because it's something to pass the time, not because he feels anything for him. "Steve, I just mean I wouldn't be able to stand it if something really serious happened to you and it was my fault."

"Bucky, you know I get something like this every year. How long have we known each other?"

"Steve," Bucky says, a little sharply this time, and the smaller boy pulls away. He stands, wrapping the blanket around him more tightly.

"What, Bucky? What are you trying to get at?"

"This year was worse than normal and I just don't want anything to happen to you ever and I'll be damned if something happens to you because of me. I don't think I'd ever fucking forgive myself and if that means I can't kiss you anymore because we can't keep it a secret without being outside in the cold in the middle of the night then that's what it means," Bucky rushes out, because he thinks that if he doesn't say it as fast as possible he won't be able to get it out at all.

Steve's expression is one of the profoundest hurt and Bucky almost opens his mouth to take it all back, but then Steve says, "I get it. It got weird."

"No, Steve, it didn't, not at all -"

"Yeah," Steve says, backing away, arms still wrapped tight around his torso. "Don't worry, it'll be okay. We don't have to talk about it anymore. Not that we ever did, but. You know. It's okay, Buck. I should go."

"Steve," Bucky calls as Steve starts to walk away, towards the fire escape, "Steve, don't go, I'm sorry."

Steve sighs and stops at the top of the ladder, swiping angrily at his nose, and Bucky knows from his expression that Steve's for about five seconds before he's going to start crying. Steve hates crying, Bucky hasn't seen him cry in four years, but now he's so close to it that Bucky's heart is aching in his chest. It wasn't supposed to end like this, but he should have known.

"Just - just one thing, Bucky, what did you wish for?"

Bucky feels like his throat is full and he can't speak, but he manages. "For, uh, for you to get better. For something that would make you safe."

"Well," Steve replies, jaw clenched and eyes bright, "looks like you got your wish, then."

Bucky watches him go, and feels like everything is breaking, not just his heart, but every part of him breaks as he watches his best friend, his golden, passionate boy, walk away from him. He drops his face into his hands and rubs at his eyes, taking a deep breath. The daybreak heralding the new year is underway, and all Bucky can think is how the start of today is an unsettling indication of the rest of the year.


	5. furnace

**FURNACE**

It’s winter, and the radiator is broken again, and Bucky kicks it.

Shitty things seem to keep happening to them in winter, and even though it’s been seven months since Steve moved in with him and over a year since Bucky fucked it all up, he can’t help but tense up a little bit every time something reminds him of it.

Sometimes he catches himself staring at Steve’s mouth while he’s talking and has to make up some excuse before he notices.

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve notices every time.

No matter what’s going on – or _isn’t_ going on, to be more accurate – between them, they’re both officially adults now, which means they have to pay for fixing their own damn radiator. When Steve’s mom had died, it had taken some convincing but Bucky had finally gotten Steve to move in with him. Turns out they couldn’t afford the apartment that Bucky had already been in – his previous roommates had all moved on – so they ended up in a tiny one-bedroom place in Brooklyn Heights.

Bucky hadn’t been apprehensive about moving into a sketchier neighborhood at all, but he’d been a little worried about Steve. Steve loves everything about it, though, and Bucky’s pleasantly surprised to find that he isn’t coming home with new battle scars every night.

Things are actually going pretty well for them, when the radiator breaks.

It isn't dramatic or anything, there's no loud bang when the apartment is quiet, but one morning Bucky wakes up to cold feet and the knowledge that Steve's teeth are audibly chattering. "What the hell - Stevie, you okay?"

"Yeah, Buck, of course," Steve says from across the tiny bedroom, wrapped tightly in blankets and curled up in a ball. "I think the heat's gone, though. I know, shocker."

Bucky half-grins, then stands and hops over to the radiator in what they've generously dubbed the living room, leaving the door to the bedroom open. "Shit." There are a million thoughts racing through his head, the most prominent of them being  _Steve can't get cold, he'll get sick._ "Shit, shit,  _shit_!" Bucky isn't even wearing socks, but he kicks the useless thing anyway, leaving his foot even colder and with a sharp pain running through it. "This thing's busted. We gotta get it fixed."

"Do you know how?" Steve asks, his voice closer. Bucky turns to see the smaller boy standing right behind him, still swathed in fabric. "I mean, if we don't do it ourselves, can we afford to get someone to fix it?"

Bucky sighs, reaching a hand up and tugging at his hair. He takes a step backwards and sits down on the couch. "C'mere," he says, and Steve raises an eyebrow at him for a second before coming and sitting down next to Bucky. "Jesus Christ, you're freezing. To answer your question," he continues as Steve leans into him, "no, I don't know how to fix it. But I mean, I get paid on Friday. We can call someone then."

"Damn," Steve hisses, his voice causing a vibration to go through Bucky's chest, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature begins to bloom inside of him. "Sorry I'm fucking useless. I'd fix it, if I could."

"Shut up," Bucky replies, giving Steve a squeeze with the arm he's wrapped around his bony shoulders. "You aren't useless. No, what you  _need_ to do is go to school, it's warm there. Go get your education. It'll be fine."

Steve stands. "We don't have a fireplace."

"No," Bucky agrees, looking up. Steve's hair is still a mess from sleep, he's pale and too thin and he has dark circles under his eyes and Bucky wants to take him in his arms and not let him go until he looks considerably healthier. These are all bad signs, signs that tell Bucky that if they don't watch out, Steve could easily get sick again. "It's okay, though. I'll make sure it's at least a little warmer when you get back."

"You don't work today, do you?"

"Nah, I do tomorrow though."

"Okay," Steve says, starting to make his way back to the bedroom. "Don't just sit around here all day either, go find something to do."

Bucky gives Steve a look. "When have I ever had trouble finding something to do?"

An hour later, Steve is in class, and wouldn't you know it, the tiny bastard was right. Bucky has nothing to do. He considers trying to fix the radiator, but he's almost positive that he'd only make it worse, so he lets it sit. At about noon he calls his sister and asks to borrow some blankets. She tries to get him and Steve to stay with her, but he'd rather not have to answer questions. Bucky's pretty sure Rebecca knows at least a little bit about his feelings for Steve, but he's sure as hell not going to put himself in a situation where he has to talk about it. Besides, she lives in one of those all girl houses, and there's no way she'd be able to get them both in.

Bucky comes home from Rebecca's place two hours later with a box full of food and blankets, and opens the door to see Steve curled in a ball, still in a sitting position, on the couch, wearing what looks like three coats. His sketchbook is balanced on his knees and it looks like he's attempting to work on something, but Bucky can see his hands shaking from his position in the doorway.

"Steve, what the fuck?"

Steve turns his head to meet Bucky's eyes, his expression only slightly guilty. "I just - they cancelled the rest of my classes because the heat was out there too. So I came home."

" _Jesus_ ," Bucky says, stepping in quickly and setting down the box on the kitchen table. "God, Stevie, you should've called me, I would've come and picked you up."

"I'm okay, Buck, really," Steve tries to protest, but settling into Bucky's touch as he wraps one of Rebecca's blankets around him. "You weren't here anyway, how was I supposed to get ahold of you?"

He knows Steve's right, but Bucky still has to fire back. "It's the principle of the thing. Shit, you're freezing. Come here." Ignoring Steve's protests, Bucky picks him up and carries him to the bedroom, his brain choosing only to focus on the way his heart is pounding in the chilly air of their apartment and how Steve wraps his arms around him.

Bucky sets Steve down on his bed, rather than Steve's and tells him, "Stay there, I'll be right back," before leaving the room to grab the rest of the blankets. He kicks off his shoes and tucks Steve into a nest of fabric, so that the smaller boy is cocooned in what could easily cause him to overheat. Bucky doesn't really give a shit about that, though, because at least he's warm.

Steve's eyes are half-closed, and he's looking up at Bucky through those long, tangled, golden lashes, and as he sits on the edge of the bed Bucky thinks in that moment that he'd do anything for Steve, he'd cross countries and fight armies and hold him tight for the rest of his life if Steve needed him to. The thoughts of how fiercely he feels for Steve - a feeling he'd always identified as love, if not romantic, then just strong - are overwhelming him in this moment, and he would give anything to be able to kiss him right now.

There's silence for a moment, then Bucky says, "Don't ever do that again."

"Do what?" Steve almost whispers, voice a little hoarse.

"Scare me like that. Don't. I - I want you to be safe."

"Buck -"

"It's okay," Bucky rushes out, moving to stand and head back to the kitchen, "it's okay, I just worry about you. I know it wasn't really that big of a deal but I just don't want you to get sick. Get some sleep, okay?"

" _Bucky_ ," Steve says, a little more insistently, working his hand out from under the covers and grabbing at Bucky's sleeve. "Please stay."

Bucky sinks back down on the mattress, turning his head to actually look at Steve again, and for a moment, he doesn't move, he just sits and lets the feeling of Steve's fingers wrapping themselves tightly in the fabric of his shirt wash over him. "Okay," Bucky replies, and he hates that he can hear a little hitch in his voice but he crawls under the blankets with Steve anyway, carefully curling around him and laying his arm over Steve's body.

"Oh," Steve says after a minute, the word more like an exhalation than an actual statement.

"What?" Bucky asks softly, his voice falling into a mimic of the hush of the room.

"You're really warm, Buck, you're like a fuckin' furnace. Why didn't we do this before?"

"I dunno," Bucky says, and he can feel some of that warmth rushing to his cheeks. "I guess we didn't want it to be weird or something."

"It's not," Steve replies, rolling over and nestling against Bucky's chest, and Bucky's sure that from his position Steve can hear exactly when Bucky's heartbeat sped up. Judging from the tiny smirk on his face, Steve is very aware of that fact. "Thank you for this. For everything."

Bucky has to clear his throat and stare at the ceiling before he can answer in the most platonic way he can muster, "'Course, Stevie. What are best friends for?"

Steve hums a little against his chest and Bucky closes his eyes, letting himself pretend for just a moment as he starts to drift off, Steve's thumb rubbing slow circles into his ribcage, that this is more than just trying to keep warm.

Even if it's not, at least he'll still have this, if nothing else.


End file.
